On to the Happy Ending
by AlisCL2
Summary: Things have changed in the couple of decades since the war. Some got their happily-ever-afters, some didn't. But sometimes, you have to wait for it, and it comes from the least expected places.
1. Reliving the Past

Reliving the Past

It had been years, so many years, since she had been to this place. So many years to try to forget the screams, to try to stop the nightmares, to let the scars fade.

And yet, here she stood, looking up at the overly tall and ornate doors of Malfoy Mansion. She swallowed the panic and pounded the doorknocker. The door opened with a heavy wooden groan, and there stood a house-elf in crudely wrapped, wide, red ribbons.

"Hello, miss!," the elf squeaked at her. "Toby can help you?"

"Hello, Toby. My name is Hermione Weasley, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I sent an owl about the library?"

"Oh, yes, miss! The Mistress wanted Toby to take you to the library straightaway. Please follow!"

Hermione could feel her throat closing as she stepped over the threshold, and she rubbed her left forearm. The memories flooded back, as vivid as if it had happened this morning. She had to swallow back the bile that rose as she relived Bellatrix's cursed blade carving into her arm. Hermione had to focus simply on a single ribbon that trailed behind the elf in front of her as she followed Toby down hallways to the library.

The Malfoy library would have been Hermione's dream come true, were it not for the fact that it was inside one of the places she most hated in this world. Hundreds, possibly thousands, of the rarest and most sought-after books in the wizarding world lay in this one humongous room. And there, in a corner to the right of the door was a table, set for tea, where Narcissa Malfoy sat. The matriarch had aged well, with only a bit more gray in her hair and a few more wrinkles to account for her nearly 70 years.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley. How are you?" Narcissa spoke as she always had: well-controlled, softly, and with an underlying tone of authority.

"I'm very-," Hermione broke off as her voice squeaked, and she ahemmed before starting again. "I'm very well, Mrs. Malfoy. And yourself?"

"As well as a woman my age can be. Please, sit," she gestured to the chair opposite her. "How do you take your tea?"

Hermione slid into the seat as gracefully as she knew how, and set her bag gently on the floor beside her. "Oh, don't worry yourself with that, ma'am. I know how with your social standing, it was probably difficult to find a time for me to do this on such short notice-"

Narcissa waved a hand. "It was no trouble at all. After that nasty business with the war, and then Lucius's passing, I find that I don't have much interest in too many parties or social calls anymore. But, still, I find it rude to not offer my guests tea, at least." As she finished speaking, she had already begun to pour for Hermione.

Hermione smiled, having learned enough social graces in her years as celebrity to know how to handle purebloods like Narcissa. It also helped to calm her nerves, and she reached for the cream. "Still, I do thank you. Your library is well-known, and my department wants to insure that all books that contain potentially dangerous magic are catalogued."

Narcissa's eyes cut quickly to Hermione's. "Your… department does not mean to diminish my library, I hope?" she asked carefully. "Many of these books have been in the Malfoy and Black lines for generations."

This was something that had been highly debated between herself and the other officials of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Many still held resentment toward the Malfoy family for their involvement in the war, and their connections to dark magic. Hermione had gone back and forth with the decision herself. Do they confiscate the dangerous books? If they did, would they be destroyed, or used to gain more knowledge into how to defend against dark magics? Or, would the Malfoy's be allowed to keep their immense collection, based on the good behavior exhibited since the war?

"No, of course not. These tomes are family heirlooms. We do, however, wish to make copies and catalogue them. That way, we can better learn to defend against any dark magic described in them. Plus, if any were to be stolen, we would have a tracking charm on them so that they could be recovered." Hermione took a sip of her tea as Narcissa seemed to think it over.

"I suppose that would be acceptable," she finally said, "but you must understand that the collection is not nearly as… extensive as it used to be. Many were destroyed after the war, when we were being investigated."

"Of course. When would you like me to start?"

"You may begin whenever suits you best, Mrs. Weasley. I will help as much as I can, and I can also enlist my house-elves help, if you would like. Though I have heard that you do not generally approve of their helping?"

The smile that came onto Hermione's face then was a well-practiced one formed through many years of fighting with purebloods over their house-elves. "I would prefer to have help from educated people. I've found that most house-elves are illiterate, and I don't believe that would be very conducive to cataloguing a library."

Narcissa laughed then, "No, I don't believe that would help much. So then, would you like to get right to it, or start tomorrow?"

"Would nine tomorrow be good for you, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"I'll actually be going for a bit of shopping and lunch with Astoria, but I should be back around one or so. If you'd like to go ahead and get started in the morning, I'll tell Toby to let you in and have lunch made for you. And, please, call me Narcissa."

Hermione nodded slowly, not sure how she would be able to deal with being in this house fairly alone. Surprisingly, having someone to talk to had taken her mind off of the memories of this place. "That would be fine, Narcissa. You can call me, Hermione, as well. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

With that, Hermione picked up her bag and Narcissa called for Toby to lead Mrs. Weasley on her way.

Hermione entered her flat that night and dropped her purse on the ground, spilling its contents over the floor. Then she slid down the door, and began sobbing. She rubbed at the scar on her arm, and wished for the millionth time that they hadn't gotten caught by the Snatchers, that Bellatrix hadn't had that damned cursed blade, and that she had never even seen Malfoy Manor to begin with.

When she had cried herself to near-total exhaustion, she showered and crawled into bed and wept some more before she finally fell into a fitful sleep where a black-haired witch carved into her arm and screamed, "Mudblood, mudblood!" at her over, and over.

 **Author's Note: It has been a long, long time since I've written anything, and so I ask that you all please offer only constructive criticism. It will be difficult for me to get back into the swing of things, as it were, so please be patient with me.**

 **I would also like to mention that this takes place a pretty good ways after the battle, obviously. I will try to keep to canon as much as possible, up until the epilogue. If I make mistakes, please point them out and I will try to correct them.**

 **One more thing, do not expect updates very quickly. I only have internet access when I visit my grandmother, so updates should be fairly regular (barring writer's block), but not often.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed, and please favorite and review!**


	2. To Work

To Work

Hermione arrived at nine o'clock on the dot, and was led to the library by Toby. She sighed as she entered and began stacking up books on the table she and Narcissa had had tea at. She sat down and began to skim over each book in turn, sorting them into piles of "safe" and "dangerous", erring on the side of caution.

Three hours later, she found herself glad that the Malfoy library had been reduced after the war. There was simply too much to go through, and being here at all was not easy for her. The pace this was going, she would be here for weeks, if not months. She forged on, hating herself for not being able to just do her job. _All I have to do is sort them, record them, and place a tracking charm on the dangerous ones_ , she thought. _It's not difficult. They're books. You love books._

Soon, Toby came with her lunch, and Hermione found herself extremely grateful for the break. "How are you today, Toby?"

"Very good, Miss! Got to clean the windows today!" the elf squeaked as she set the plate on the table. Hermione would never understand the joy house-elves got out of doing menial housework.

"Do they treat you well here?"

"Oh yes, miss! Mistress and Master Draco are very kind to Toby and others. The uh- the old m-master…" The elf then lunged for the edge of the table, but Hermione quickly grabbed the creature's shoulder, stopping her.

"No! Toby, I know how Lucius used to treat all of you. You don't have to tell me about him, and you don't have to fear him anymore. I just wanted to make sure you and the other house-elves were treated okay."

"Yes, miss."

"Now, that's better." The elf's huge eyes looked straight at Hermione's. "Would you perhaps like to sit down for a minute with me? Maybe tell me how things are around here?"

"No, no, miss." Toby shook her head, her ears and ribbons flapping. "Must go to kitchen. Much cleaning to do."

Hermione was sad to see the little elf go, wishing again for a bit more company.

Not long after that, she heard the door open. As she looked up, she found herself looking into the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. This is not what she meant when she wished for company.

"Granger?" he said, his surprise evident. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"It's Weasley, Malfoy. I'm on a job. I have to catalogue any potentially dangerous books you have for the Ministry." She tried to speak briefly, hoping that the panic she felt at facing him couldn't be heard in her voice. She looked down and began picking at a loose string on her shirt hem, trying to avoid looking at him.

He scoffed. "Dangerous, huh? Like any of the dangerous books in here have been touched in decades. They destroyed the worst of them after the war, anyway."

"I know, but it's my job."

"Would you like some help? It would probably go a lot faster with someone who actually knows the library."

"What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be at work or having lunch with your wife and mother?"

He stood up straighter, looking down his nose at her. It reminded her terribly of Lucius, especially now that he had aged a bit. "I live here, and Astoria and I are longer together. If you didn't want my help, you could have simply said that instead of bringing up my ex-wife. I only need this one anyway." He reached down and grabbed a book from the safe pile before saying, "Good day, Granger, "and exiting with a slam of the door.

Hermione did feel bad about it, but she really hadn't known. She decided that there was nothing she could do about it now, anyway. She grabbed another book and opened it, immediately coming to a page on the _cruciatus_ curse.

The memories hit her like the curse itself. Panic gripped her chest again and she tried hard to keep her breathing even and calm herself. When that failed, she lay her head down on the open page. Her throat closed and her shoulders tensed, but then she found that she had no more tears to cry after last night. She stayed like that for a while, but she knew that she had to do this. She began to mechanically sort again, until Narcissa came back.

The Malfoy Matriarch looked curiously at Hermione before saying, "I'll venture a guess that it's been pretty draining?"

"More than I could say. There's just so much here to go through."

"Don't worry," Narcissa smiled. "I'll help out from now on." She sat down across from Hermione and began to _accio_ over books that she knew to be what the younger woman was looking for. The work went by much quicker with Narcissa's help, as all Hermione had to do was record the book's titles and place a tracking charm on them.

To keep up small talk, Hermione asked, "How was your lunch with Astoria?"

Narcissa sighed. "Oh, well enough, I think. Astoria is going through a lot right now, so it wasn't as… enjoyable as I would have liked."

"Yes, Draco came in today, and I made the mistake of asking why he hadn't gone to lunch with the two of you. I truly hadn't known they were separated. Please extend my apologies to him."

"I will. It's been an unfortunate necessity, I think. Divorce is simply _not_ something that purebloods do, you see. Especially not a matching of two Sacred Twenty-eights…." Narcissa trailed off, getting lost in her thoughts.

Hermione knew, just knew, that it wasn't her place to ask; but she couldn't help her own damned curiosity. "Why did they separate, then?"

Narcissa looked closely at Hermione, as if trying to see her soul. "I know who you are, Hermione Granger. I remember the girl who was dragged into my home more than two decades ago. I remember the girl that was tortured on my drawing room floor." Hermione looked down again, trying to picture the room in her mind, trying to construct a plan of escape as her breathing became shallow and rapid. "I want you to know," the matriarch continued, "that my views on your kind have changed since then."

"M-mudbloods, you mean?" Hermione whispered.

Narcissa pursed her lips, and when Hermione looked at her again, she was reminded of one of Professor McGonagall's favorite expressions. "I mean muggleborns. Over the years since the war, I've realized what muggleborns have done for our society. Wizards have never had such effective government, and I am not so prideful as to not admit that muggleborns have influenced that greatly. Plus… well, if we stick to the old ideals… We are a dying breed. There are less and less witches and wizards each year. We cannot continue marrying into the same families over and over and expect different results. Even the muggles have learned that, with their royal bloodlines. You need to understand the changes my opinions have taken on the subject."

Hermione no longer felt threatened, and thus was brave enough to ask, "That's wonderful, Narcissa, but what does that have to do with Draco?"

"His opinions have changed, as well, but our society's views as a whole have not. We are still part of the Sacred Twenty-eight, and we will never escape the scrutiny that falls on us as such. No woman should have to stay in a loveless marriage, but Astoria did. Their match was one made of political and reputational alliances. I hated to do that to them, but Lucius insisted. Astoria did, however, find love elsewhere- a muggle man who worked in the village they lived in. Even though he was a muggle, it got out. Draco had to divorce her, you see."

"No, I don't see. They should have divorced long before that, if they didn't love each other."

"It's not that simple for us, Hermione. Draco has spent his entire adult life never stepping a toe out of line. He has worked tirelessly to restore our family's pride and honor. He doesn't want his son to be looked down upon like he has been."

"The sins of the father-, "Hermione began.

"You've seen for yourself how the sins of the father become the sins of the son in the wizarding world. Your own husband was labeled a bloodtraitor simply because his father felt for muggles. So, if Draco stayed in the marriage, he would be labeled a fool. Astoria was careless to let anyone know, but the both of them are happier. She gets to continue her relationship, albeit with a lesser reputation- Twenty-eights and muggles, you know- and Draco saves face. It's really awful for all of them, worst for Scorpius, but it is the lesser of two evils, as it were."

"Why would she lose her reputation for loving a muggle? We are so far beyond that now!"

"Not all purebloods are, Hermione. Many may not have followed the Dark Lord, but they still believe in purity. They believe that some of us are better than others simply because of birth. I know that, because you didn't grow up having all of this drilled into you the way these children have, it's hard for you to understand. But you need to. You need to know that your battles are never over, and neither are ours. Muggleborns fight for their place, and we fight to keep the ways we are comfortable with."

Hermione began to comprehend. What had insulted Draco wasn't the mention of his wife, as it seemed neither of them cared about the infidelity. No, his pride was hurt. He had worked so hard for his standing, and Hermione had unknowingly rubbed salt in a wound.

"I-I see. Thank you for telling me."

Narcissa smiled at her. "Yes, well, Draco would hate that I told you. You will be here for a few days, at least." Narcissa gestured at the forgotten piles of books before continuing, "You and he may run into each other again, and he may be a bit rude while he is under so much stress. I thought you may want an explanation as to why."

Hermione was beginning to like Narcissa Malfoy more and more. It was rare that she found someone so forthcoming, and the conversation had given her a few more facets of pureblood society to mull over. She leaned back in her chair and was stretching her legs in front of her when she noticed that the magical lamps around the room had lit. She glanced toward the large windows and gasped when she saw that the sun was nearly set. "Oh, Merlin! Narcissa, I'm very sorry, but I hadn't realized how late it's gotten! I have to go, so sorry," she babbled as she frantically gathered her things.

Narcissa sat calmly, her hands folded gracefully in her lap and a smirk on her lips, as she watched Hermione's panic. "It is quite alright, dear. I hadn't realized myself."

Hermione stood and slung her bag over her shoulder and ran for the door, before quickly turning and saying, "Again, please tell Draco I apologize."

"Of course, dear. See you tomorrow," Narcissa replied softly, but Hermione was already gone.

 **Author's Note: This was extremely difficult to write, and I fear I may not have gotten all of my ideas across very well. There were so many things that needed to happen here, so I apologize that it may be hard to understand. If you have any questions, please leave them in a review or a private message. In fact, just review anyway! I need all the feedback I can get to know how you all feel about it! Thank you!**


	3. The Tedium is Broken

The Tedium is Broken

Hermione had been coming to this house for weeks. A little over a month, actually, of coming to this place, and it seemed as though it would be weeks more. Maybe another month.

Well, at least she and Narcissa had become more than amiable with each other. In fact, Hermione had become rather fond of Narcissa. They had traded stories of their children, recipes (though neither of them were exactly cooks), and little homemaking spells. Hermione knew Narcissa had probably never had to use most of them, but the kindness was appreciated nonetheless.

In fact, Hermione had found a lovely little chicken recipe to share, and she had had a good night's rest for the first time in ages. She strolled down the hallway to the library.

"It's not going to happen, Mother, so please stop." Hermione stopped, her hand poised for the customary but unnecessary knock.

"Draco, I'm no longer asking. You _will_ help. This poor girl has too many bad memories here. If you would just help us, it would go so much faster. I know your father showed you all the dark books here-" As Narcissa was speaking, Hermione dropped her hand and leaned closer to the door.

"Yes, as he was pimping me out to a man whom even he called The Dark Lord. Don't remind me of that pompous prick."

"Watch your language, Draco. As I said, _you will help._ "

"No. I won't. She and I are both adults, Mother. If we wish to speak to each other, we will. I certainly have no desire for a conversation with that insufferable-"

"She's a lovely girl. I won't have you speaking ill of her. And, if you are both adults, then I would suggest that you _act like it._ "

It was silent a moment, then, "Fine. At least I'll get the use of my own damned library back."

"Language! Now, sit. I'm having breakfast brought in."

Hermione heard a chair scrape on the wooden floor. Then, she waited, not too long but long enough that they wouldn't suspect she had listened, and knocked before entering.

"Oh. Draco." The fake smile she had plastered on fell artfully as she feigned surprise. "It's –um- _lovely_ to see you."

Draco nodded as his mother said, "Draco has graciously agreed to help us, dear. I'm afraid he knows the library even better than I do. Come, sit." Narcissa smiled at her. "I'm having the elves bring up breakfast, including the croissants you like. And the honey."

Hermione couldn't help the small grin that came to her lips. "Thank you, Narcissa." Hermione crossed to the table, taking her usual seat, except now Draco sat to her left.

Narcissa seemed calm, whereas the two of them sat in awkward silence. They began sorting the books, the quiet thuds and turning pages being the only sounds, until breakfast was brought in.

Hermione quietly thanked the old elf that brought in the tray, and Draco scoffed. Both Narcissa and Hermione shot him a scathing glare. "What?" he said. "She just thanked an _elf_ , Mother. She doesn't understand."

"Oh? I don't understand, Malfoy? I understand that they are intelligent beings, with feelings. Any creature with _feelings_ likes to be appreciated. Of course, you wouldn't _understand_ that, not feeling anything yourself."

Narcissa waved the elf away as she leaned back in her chair and watched the little show unfurling in front of her.

"I don't feel anything? You're delusional, Granger. Still as insufferable as ever."

"As if you are any different. My God, Malfoy. I've been in your house for weeks, and you've barely said hello!" Hermione could feel her cheeks reddening, and she became more animated.

Draco seemed the opposite, he was as still as a statue. "I offered you help," he said, his eyes fixed on a point on the wall. " _You_ are the one that refused."

"I never refused! I-I was nervous! I've barely seen you since school; I was just trying to make small talk! I didn't know about-"

"Yes, my mother extended your-"

Hermione stood quickly and shouted, "So stop acting like a child, and accept it!"

Narcissa knew her cue. "Well," she said, perhaps a bit too brightly, "our breakfast seems to be getting cold. Come on, then."

Hermione deflated into her seat, her cheeks reddening, now out of embarrassment instead of anger. "Sorry about that, Narcissa."

"Oh, nothing to worry over. If I remembered correctly, you like coffee with breakfast?"

Hermione nodded, and took the mug and saucer Narcissa offered her.

"And," Narcissa continued, pouring more, "coffee for you, Draco."

"Thank you, Mother."

Hermione grabbed a croissant and cut it open, reaching for the butter first. She didn't know what to say, but Narcissa, being the ever-gracious hostess, couldn't let silence stand.

"Draco, tell Hermione about your job. It's quite interesting, dear." She patted the younger witch's hand across the table.

"She knows I work in the Ministry, just like her, Mother. There's nothing to tell her, really."

 _I'm right here_ , Hermione thought, but instead she said, "Actually, I know you're in Mysteries, but I don't really know what you do."

Draco chuckled, a smirk barely playing on his lips. "That's why it's Mysteries, though, isn't it, Granger? You've been there; you know there isn't any way to describe the things that are down there."

Hermione sighed. "Yeah. I don't know how anyone can understand that mess."

"It is much easier to understand when you aren't a bunch of teenagers gallivanting through, guessing what the next door is."

"Don't be rude, Draco," Narcissa reminded. She certainly knew when to interject.

"We had to," Hermione said confidently. Draco Malfoy had no right to question what they did, even if she knew they had been tricked.

He gave her a look that she found surprisingly sad. "I know," he said.

Hermione left it at that, and continued to pull at bits of her croissant. She found her appetite had disappeared, and so she drank her coffee instead.

"You shouldn't be so modest, Draco," his mother chided him. "His work is actually quite interesting, Hermione. Much like yours, at least," she chuckled, "when you aren't here. But it seems that that isn't the topic to discuss now. How about we get started sorting, hmm?"

Hermione silently thanked God for small blessings, and soon they were lost in the work and in their own heads.

 **Author's Note: I hope this chapter wasn't too boring. I know it's slow-going on the romance front, but trust me, we are getting there. Also, a huge THANK YOU to the followers I have for this story. Your continued support really means so much to me, you guys have no idea. Please continue to favorite, follow, and review!**


	4. Taking a Break

Taking a Break

Hermione woke up on Saturday with no plans. None. She smiled to herself, still cuddled in her heavy down comforter, enjoying the glorious realization.

She soon found that, despite her best efforts, she wasn't going to be sleeping in today. Oh, well. She swung her feet out of the bed and stretched, before padding her way to the bathroom.

The flat she had found was small, but it fit her purposes well enough. Three bedrooms, one for Rose and one for Hugo, but only one bathroom. At least it had a nice shower, and she stayed in until the water turned cold.

Awake and refreshed, she returned to her bedroom, and was trying to find something other than her robe to wear when she heard a tapping on her window. She looked up to find a large barn owl, one she recognized as Rose's favorite from Hogwarts.

Hermione took the letter from the owl and gave it a treat from the box on her windowsill. She turned and sat on the bed, opening the letter at the same time.

 _Mum,_

 _You haven't written in a while._ (Already, Hermione began to feel guilty.) _I'm not complaining, mind you. I still remember all the letters I got first year. I mean, three a day? Really? I'm never letting you live that down._

 _Anyway, since I hadn't heard from you, I figured you probably hadn't heard. Hugo's been getting into trouble. I don't mean to tattle, but I thought you should know. He's been trying to pick fights with other kids, and even tricked one of the first years into eating one of Uncle George's puking pasties. Don't ask me how he got them in here, I don't know. Anyway, he had detention nearly every day last week. At least he was smart enough to get caught by different teachers each time._

 _I've tried talking to him, but you know how he is. He gets mad about something, and he just doesn't think. I didn't want to get Dad involved yet, since he's just the same. I was hoping you could talk some sense into him. I know he's still mad at you, but maybe it will work._

 _I miss you, Mum. We get to go to Hogsmeade next weekend. Maybe we could meet for lunch?_

 _Your daughter,_

 _Rose Weasley_

As Hermione looked over her daughter's elegant signature, she sighed. She knew this would happen. Hugo was angry about what happened, and Hermione suspected he might even blame himself some for it. Though he looked more like Hermione than Ron, his personality was nearly Ron's made over. He let whatever he was feeling at the moment govern his actions instead of logically thinking through all of it.

Hermione chuckled as she remembered Hugo's fourth birthday, when they had given him his first toy broom. Hermione had not been excited about the idea, but Ron insisted that every future quidditch star started out on a toy broom. Finally, Hermione had given in, not wanting to argue about it anymore. She should have, though, because the first thing Hugo did was try a loop. Hermione had realized what the brown-haired daredevil was going to do, and she had shouted at him to land right now. Of course, he didn't. The broom, being a child's toy, was obviously not meant for that, and so it had barely gone up when it stopped abruptly at its height limit and Hugo fell off.

Hermione had rushed to him, Ron not far behind. Hugo had only had the breath knocked out of him, but Hermione remembered that as the first time she had told him, "You have to think before you act!"

Hermione walked out to her main room, where she had hung a collage of pictures, both moving and muggle, above the TV stand. She looked at them all. A family portrait in Italy, her smiling down at Hugo's pink face just after he was born, Rose chasing a butterfly in a field. She traced a finger over the frame of a muggle picture showing Rose and Hugo, so young.

She smiled sadly, then decided to go out for breakfast and clear her head. Hermione went back to her bedroom and put on a jumper and jeans, clipped her hair back in a twist, and put on a bit of makeup. She refused to go out without any, because, though she still looked wonderful for her age, the dreaded wrinkles had started to show around her eyes and mouth.

She locked up and walked the four blocks to her favorite pastry shop, _Bridget's Bakery._ A simple name, to be sure, as well as a simple place, but Mrs. Bridget could make the lightest, most wonderful baked goods Hermione had ever tasted. Her homemade breads were even better than Mrs. Weasley's, and _that_ was saying something.

The bell jingled as she stepped in, the vicious cold wind around her.

"Morning, Mrs. Weasley!" she heard from behind the counter. There stood a slightly chubby woman with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and a patch of flour on her cheek , only a couple of years younger than Hermione.

"Natalie, good morning," Hermione smiled. "What's the specialty this morning?" Mrs. Bridget had a few staples, like biscuits and croissants, but every morning she would decide what she felt like making special that day, and on that she went all out. Hermione didn't even know why she asked anymore, because she never got anything but the special.

"Oh, you're gonna love it, ma'am! Gran's made double-chocolate éclairs." Natalie leaned over the counter a bit, and put a hand up to the side of her mouth before show-whispering, "I think she's feeling a little generous to me today, because she knows these are my favorites!"

Hermione giggled a bit with Natalee then said, "That sounds wonderful. Can I have that and a cup of coffee?"

"Of course! Just have a seat, Gran should have a fresh one I can get for you."

Hermione sat at an old table next to the window and dragged her tired copy of _Jane Eyre_ out of her bag. Natalee brought over the éclairs and coffee, with sugar and cream, and Hermione ate slowly as she read.

"Always got your nose in a book, hmm?" Mrs. Bridgett said as she leaned over to refill Hermione's coffee. "You even realize 'ow long you been 'ere?"

"Sorry?"

"Been sittin' at this old table, just sippin' and nibblin' away for almost two 'ours." Mrs. Bridget nodded as she spoke, her "old-lady hair", as Hermione called it, bobbing atop her head.

"No!" Hermione jerked to look at the clock behind the counter. She was right; it was almost eleven. "Oh, I have to go, Mrs. Bridget. Your éclairs were splendid, though, thank you."

"Of course, dear, but don't stay away so long this time, mm?" Mrs. Bridget smiled as she pulled the door open.

"I'll try not to. Goodbye!"

Hermione walked home briskly. She really didn't have anything much to do today, besides write Rose. She wasn't sure yet what she would say to Hugo, so she didn't know if she would write him today or not. But she did want the letter to reach Rose by dinner so she would have to hurry.

She sat down at her little dining table, with a ballpoint pen and a notebook. Some things, muggles just did better.

 _Rose,_

 _I'm glad you're so worried about your brother, darling, but everything will be fine. I informed the professors at the beginning of the term, so they're aware of what your brother's dealing with. I'll write him, but I doubt he'll listen to me right now._

 _I'm sorry I haven't written lately. I've been really busy with that job on the Malfoy library. If it weren't the Malfoy's, I would love it. You would, too. More books on more topics than you can imagine._

 _Your letter didn't say anything about how school is going. Are you still doing well in your classes?_ _Neville_ _Professor Longbottom has told me that you're doing really well in herbology and potions. How are all your cousins? You know I worry about Lily, too._

 _I'll meet you at one in The Three Broomsticks next Saturday, okay?_

 _Love you,_

 _Mum_

Hermione went up to the roof of her building, where she was able to apparate to Diagon Alley, then to the aviary. She paid the man in front, and he sent off the letter for her. She hoped the bird would be able to make it in time for dinner.

The rest of the day, she spent in lazy bliss: on the couch, with wine, and a book.

 **Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your support. I know this chapter was a bit boring, but it is the longest one I've written so far. Mostly, this one was to help everyone understand Hermione's situation better. Please, continue to favorite, follow, and review!**


	5. Turning Point

Turning Point

Draco sat casually in the library, waiting on Granger. Honestly, he was a bit upset with the situation, still. His mother had gotten a cold and left him to deal with Granger on his own. He had conceded over the last few days of this that having his mother around worked well. She knew when to keep quiet and let them get their frustrations out, but she also knew when to step in before it got to be too much for either of them. He recognized that both he and Hermione respected Narcissa enough to temper themselves when she spoke.

But today, his mother had almost begged him to help Hermione. Of course, Narcissa never actually begged, ever, because she didn't need to. She certainly knew how to get her way. So Draco had promised he woud help Hermione, but Narcissa had said nothing about how he had to do it. This was the day off, after all, so he decided he would at least be comfortable.

Hermione stepped into the library, and stopped in her tracks. She had never seen Draco Malfoy in a thin, white t-shirt, nor loose plaid pajama pants. She licked her lips, quickly, and greeted him. "Um, good morning, Draco."

"Hello, Granger," he casually replied, pouring coffee for the both of them. "Do you want sugar?"

"I always want sugar in my coffee. Uh-did you, um, forget to get dressed this morning? And where's your mother?"

"Mother's sick. She asked me to help you, but this was supposed to be my day off. So you'll just have to deal with my relaxation attire, Granger."

 _Oh, I can deal,_ Hermione thought as she sat down, _I can definitely deal with that._ She immediately silently chastised herself. Sure, he was certainly… nice, to look at. More than nice. _My God, it must have been longer than I thought._

She thanked Draco as he handed her coffee over. "Is your mother okay, then?"

"She's fine. Just a cold, really, but she didn't want to be around us all day and risk us catching it."

Hermione nodded, trying to keep her head down and eyes away from Draco's nicely defined chest. "I got a letter from Rose this weekend. Does Scorpius write you often?"

That got a small grin from Draco. "He still writes, but not nearly as often as he used to. Honestly, I miss it."

Hermione sighed, "I know exactly what you mean." She gave a soft laugh, "Rose still teases me because I used to send her three letters a day when she started."

"Don't worry; Astoria did the same thing. Except I think her average was five letters. I kept telling her the boy was just excited to be somewhere new, and she was just babying him. She finally slowed down around Halloween."

That got a true laugh out of Hermione, and she said through her chuckles, "Ron actually kep telling me the same things. I told him he didn't know what he was talking about, that it was different with girls. Finally, Rose just told me that she wouldn't write if I didn't stop sending so many."

"Scorpius just ignored it until I could get her to listen to reason."

"I never thought about how my parents felt when I went until my children did. Now I understand why I couldn't get Mum to leave me alone my first year."

"Honestly, I miss being able to just go out back and fly with him. Hell, even just have a face-to-face conversation."

Hermione suddenly realized that she and Draco were actually having a civil conversation. "I wish Hugo and I could be like that, but he's so much like his father. In fact, he gets on better with Ron than me."

"How is the weasel, anyway? I haven't heard you say much of him."

"I- um- don't know. I haven't spoken to him in a while." She grabbed a book and began turning the pages, without seeing him, a nervous habit of hers.

"Haven't spoken? He's your husband, how do you not speak to your husband?"

"Have you spoken to Astoria?" His expression changed. She had hit a nerve again.

"Why would I speak to her? We're divorced, as you well know."

"Ron and I are separated as well," Hermione sighed, putting the book down and rolling her head to look at him. It reminded Draco of a sassy teenager. "It's not final yet."

"Oh." Draco's eyes got wider in surprise. "I hadn't known. I'm sorry. Is it- is it, um, similar to my situation?"

"In that regard only. Neither of us were unfaithful, we just…. We just aren't in love each other anymore. We grew apart, we're different people now. We tried to make it work, but eventually both of us decided that it wouldn't work. "

"I see. Will you excuse me a moment, please?" He stood without waiting for an answer, and left the room.

Hermione figured she had offended him somehow, and talking about it had drained her a bit. He was the first person she had told outside of family. She decided to deal with her feelings the way she always did: ignoring them and burying them in work.

She used _wingardium leviosa_ to bring over another pile of books, and as she put them down on the table, Draco came back in. He was carrying two wine glasses and a bottle.

"Here," he handed her a glass with an uneasy smile. He opened the bottle and poured a deeply-coloured red wine for her, then into his own. "You looked like you needed it."

"Thank you." She returned his smile, which she could only describe as nervous, with one of her own before she sipped. "This is wonderful, what is it?"

"I honestly don't know." He looked at the bottle. "Some sort of syrah, I think? I just grabbed a bottle. Something expensive, anyway. Mother keeps nothing less."

Hermione laughed softly, "Maybe that's why I like it so much. I usually drink cheap wines."

"Not that much difference, really. This one's just old. Look," he held the bottle out. "The label's nearly gone. I hope she wasn't saving it for something special." Draco made a face, pulling his lip over to the side, and Hermione couldn't help but giggle.

Soon, Draco had joined her, his deep laugh filling the room around them.

"Okay, okay," Hermione said as her laughter died down. "We have to get to work. My bosses will have my arse if I don't make any progress soon."

He gave her another smile, this one not as nervous, and sat back down. They worked the rest of the day, sharing stories about their kids. Surprisingly, with this sort of light conversation, Hermione found it easy to talk to him.

For the first time since she had started this job, Hermione didn't even feel the slightest bit of nervousness or panic at being in this house.

 **Author's Note: PeevsyPadfoot- I kept it vague just for this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. Guest- Thank you. I try to update frequently, but I don't actually have internet. I have to borrow friend's and family's to update. I'm so happy you like it! CrazyPedantic- I hope the last couple of chapters have cleared up your confusion. Things are kept unclear so that they can be revealed as they pertain. I'm so happy you've liked it so far!**

 **This story has reached TWENTY-ONE follows! You guys have no idea how happy I am about that! I'm beyond excited that that many people like it! Please continue to favorite, follow and review!**


	6. A Telling Conversation

A Telling Conversation

 _Hugo,_

 _I've recently heard that you've been getting in trouble at school. You have to stop. I'll also be having a chat with George. You know you aren't supposed to be acting like this, and I'm sure you would much rather get me involved than your father. He cares about your education as much as I do._

 _I know you're still upset. I hope you'll really think about things, and realize that this is better for all of us. You just have to think through it, darling. Your father and I never meant to upset you, okay? We're here for you._

Hermione heard the door behind her open, and Draco entered. She had gotten to Malfoy Manor early, and so she thought she would try to write Hugo. He walked over to her in a few long strides and looked over her shoulder. She threw her arm over the letter quickly. "Do you mind, Malfoy?"

"Something personal, Granger?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. It's a letter to Hugo."

"Oh, in that case-" he broke off suddenly, and reached down to snatch it from under her arm.

"Malfoy! You sneaky little ferret, give that back!" She hopped out of her seat and reached for it, but he held it above his head. He was taller than her, so she couldn't reach it even with the pitiful hops she could safely do in her pumps.

"Go out to dinner with me," he said.

Hermione stopped, stunned. "What?"

"You heard me." His signature smirk became even smugger, if possible. "Go out to dinner with me, and I'll give it back."

"You're acting like a child, Draco. It's just a letter."

"Well, I guess I'll just keep it then."

"Draco, I can't. My divorce isn't final."

Draco held the letter up above him, and he looked up at it. Hermione admired the light stubble on his chin while he did. "So," he said, drawing it out. "Just go out with me when it's through, then."

"Fine!" Hermione even reminded herself of a teenager as she said it.

"Good." He held it above him, still, and stared at it a few more moments.

"I didn't say you could read it!"

"I promised to give it back, not that I wouldn't read it first." He returned it with a smile, showing his perfectly white teeth.

"Sneaky, scheming…" Hermione mumbled under her breath as they both sat.

"You know, you should just let Ron handle it."

"Oh, and why is that, pray tell?"

"He's just scared. The kid feels like his whole life is about to change, just because the two of you made a decision that he thinks wasn't necessary. Kids are selfish. He only ever saw what you and Ron presented to him, where I'm sure you acted like the happy little family. Right?"

"I-I… yes."

"So he didn't see how unhappy the two of you were. I'm sure you still care for each other; still love each other as friends. Hugo thinks that's enough for a marriage because he's a child. Now, I'm not saying he needs to know every little detail- is your daughter coping better than this?"

"She is. She's more mature than Hugo, and I had a long talk with her about why this was happening. She just… she just understands it better."

"Well, that's good, because I couldn't help you with her. Anyway, as I was saying, kids are selfish. He doesn't know what to expect to change in his own life. One of you has moved, right?"

"I moved into a flat, in muggle London."

"Right. So, he doesn't know if he'll be with you or Ron, if he has to move. He doesn't know how holidays or birthdays will be. He's acting out because he's confused. You should have Ron- actually, no. All of you need to sit down and decide, all together, how all that will be handled." Draco waited a moment, and then waved his hand around dismissively, "Or, his dear old Uncle George has really gotten to him, and there's no saving him now."

Hermione gave a small smile, thinking over what he had said. It made sense. Hugo had always hated other people making decisions for him. She crumpled up the letter and tossed it towards the rubbish bin in the corner. She missed, of course, and Draco chuckled at her, before calling Toby up to request their breakfast.

"Your mother isn't better yet?"

Draco looked slightly worried. "She's not. The cough has gotten worse, and the potions don't seem to be helping much. I keep telling her to let me take her to St. Mungo's, but she insists it's just a bad cold. Stubborn old woman."

Hermione sighed, worried for the woman whom she now considered a friend. "I wish she would go, too. A cold shouldn't keep someone down for almost a week."

"I'll convince her, it will just take a few more days." He flashed a smile at her. "You're not going to try to get out of the dinner?"

Hermione shook her head and sighed, "I don't see any problem with one dinner. Even if I do manage to find some way to get out of it, you'll just find another way to get what you want."

His smile grew brighter, as he said, "I always do, Granger."

That is when Toby popped back in with their breakfast, and they tucked in, each of them sneaking glances at each other and wearing smirks.

 **Author's Note: This is the shortest chapter I've had, and I'm sorry for that. I just felt that this was a good place to end this one. Still, I hope you all enjoyed it, and please continue to follow, favorite, and review!**

 **I had to replace this chapter and four. Sorry for that, but I noticed some mistakes I just had to correct. Again, I apologize.**


	7. Great Danger

Great Danger

Draco had to go back to work, and so Hermione was left to her own devices over the next few days, save for twice day visits when Toby would bring her breakfast and lunch. The thoughts that had plagued Hermione that first day began to creep back into her mind, and she found herself jumpy again the longer she was here without company.

Just as Toby was about to leave her one day for lunch, Hermione called her back and asked, "Do you know if Narcissa is getting better? I haven't heard from Draco since he went back to work."

The elf's eyes welled up. "Oh, Miss!" she wailed. "We don't know what to do! The Mistress was awake when Master Draco left her this morning, but she fell asleep and-and she won't w-w-wake up!" Now, Toby was wiping great amounts of mixed snot and tears from her face.

"What do you mean, she won't wake up?"

"We tried to get her to take the potions, to eat! She won't wake up, Miss, she won't!"

Hermione stood so quickly that her chair fell behind her, but she paid it no mind. "Where is she, Toby? Lead me to her."

Toby grabbed Hermione's hand and nearly drug her through hallways, rooms, and up stairs that Hermione didn't take the time to look at. Finally, Toby stopped before a room at the end of the second story hall.

"This is her room?" The elf nodded in reply, seemingly now so distraught that she was incapable of speech.

Hermione let herself in, and gasped, a hand flying to her mouth, at what she saw. Narcissa lay motionless on the bed, what little color she had claimed was gone. Hell, she looked almost grey, from head to toe. Her already bony fingers seemed longer and thinner, resting on a book in her lap. Her cheekbones nearly pierced her skin.

As her shock abated, Hermione rushed over to Narcissa's bedside, immediately putting her fingers to the older woman's neck. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding when she found a pulse. Weak, but a pulse.

"Toby!" Hermione called, "Toby, come here!"

The house-elf entered the room, still whimpering. Hermione learned the importance of speaking to upset people calmly during the war, so she said, as soothingly as she could, "Toby, I can't side-along apparate her in this state. I might splinch her. Can you?"

"Y-yes, miss."

Hermione took the book from her, pulled back the blankets, and grabbed Narcissa's hand. She pulled it over to the side of the bed, and Toby took it. "Take her to St. Mungo's, and ask for Healer Jordan. I'll be there in just a few minutes."

Toby nodded, and Hermione stepped back quickly as she heard the loud crack. She gathered up a few things in her arms: the book, a family photo, and Narcissa's wedding ring from her bedside. She didn't know why she grabbed them, perhaps just a panic reaction. She rushed downstairs and stuffed the belongings in her bag. She ran out to the gates, where she could finally apparate to St. Mungo's.

She ran up to the desk, breathless. "I sent… an elf a few… a few minutes ago. Narcissa…. Malfoy."

The young blonde at the desk nodded, her eyes wide. She was probably starstruck; Hermione was still all too famous. Hermione waited a beat, then said, a little too loudly, "So, where is she?!"

"Down- down there," the girl pointed down a hall to her left. "Third door on the right, but I don't know-"

Hermione wasn't listening by then, in fact, she was already halfway toward the door. She broke through, and immediately spied her old classmate, Alicia Jordan. "Alicia! Alicia, is she going to be alright?"

The witch spun around. "Hermione, you can't be here! There's a waiting room just across the hall. You have to wait there!"

Hermione stood, motionless, just barely able to see Mrs. Malfoy's bare feet beyond the curtain. "Go!"Alicia yelled. It stunned Hermione out of her stupor, and she retreated to the waiting room, feeling helpless. Toby joined her soon after, to tell her that she needed to return to the Manor. Hermione nodded numbly, telling her to relay to Draco what had happened.

Hours passed, with Hermione staring blankly around the room, before Alicia came in, pulling a chair opposite her. "Hermione, I have a few questions for you."

"Of course." Hermione tried to compose herself, sitting up straighter and putting a stray curl behind her ear.

"How long has she been like this?"

"The uh, the elves said she was awake this morning, when Draco left. I found her like this at around noon."

Alicia nodded thoughtfully, "Has she been acting strange lately? Uncharacteristically withdrawn, lowered appetite, anything like that?"

"I haven't actually spoken to her in almost two weeks. The last time we talked, she was fine. Draco, erm, Malfoy, would probably know more. He should be here soon." Hermione dropped her head into her hands. "Wish I could help more."

"No, no, Hermione." Aliccia reached out and patted her old schoolmate on the shoulder. "Go get something to eat; won't do to have you sick as well. I need to get back to her. I'll tell you more later, okay?"

Hermione attempted a smile as Healer Spinnet left. Truth be told, the worry had taken her appetite away from her. She didn't want to eat, she just wanted to know if Narcissa would get better. She hadn't seen anyone in that shape since the war….

She shook those thoughts from her mind, and took out her wand, transfiguring the chair Alicia had left into various household items: an armoire, a nightstand, a vanity, and so on.

Draco finally stormed in at a quarter after five. "What's happened to her? She was fine this morning!" His voice cracked when he said 'morning'.

Hermione looked up at him, the same worry etched over her own face. "I don't know, Draco. The Healer wanted to ask you some questions. I'm sure she'll be here soon."

His gaze rested on Hermione's face, and she could see that his eyes were glistening. "They won't let me see her," he whispered.

Hermione patted the seat beside her, and he followed the unspoken command. Hermione timidly took his hand in her own, offering as well as taking comfort. "She'll be fine, Draco, don't worry," she gave advice she found herself unwilling to take in the hours she'd been here. "They just need time. You know these things always take time."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." He ran a hand through his hair, making it fall across his forehead. "I just don't understand."

"Shh… I know you don't. That's okay, none of us understand right now, but we will. Come on. Let's go get a coffee." Hermione felt herself falling into her old role; the level-headed voice of reason.

"It's too late for coffee."

"Tea, then." She pulled insistently on his cold and pale hand. Her stomach growled a bit, telling her that even though she didn't feel hungry, she was. "I never got lunch, either. I have to get something to eat."

Draco finally stood, saying, "We can't be long, though."

"I know," Hermione whispered back before she led him out of the hospital and to a random sandwich shop down the street. They ordered everything to go, and were bringing it back to the waiting room when they saw Healer Jordan step out from the other room.

The Healer held the door to the waiting room for them, and then stepped in behind them. She gave a slightly quizzical look at what used to be the standard issue wooden waiting chairs, but was now a plush living chair, before sitting down on the edge of it.

She held a hand out to Draco, who shook it as she said, "I'm Healer Jordan. I don't know if you remember me from school-"

"I do. Alicia Spinnet, gave Warrington a nasty black eye my third year. Married Lee Jordan, I assume?" Hermione gave Draco a sidelong glance as he spoke. He had adopted the proud ways of a Malfoy, probably trying to hide his worry. _Show no weakness_ , Hermione thought.

"Probably not the best memory, but I assure you Mr. Malfoy, I am doing everything I can to help your mother. I'm the head healer on her case."

"I've heard of your work. I know you're a wonderful healer. Any idea what's wrong with her?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could help with that. Has she acted differently lately?"

"No. She's been in bed with a cold, but she hasn't acted strangely. She was uncomfortable, but that's all."

"A cold?" Alicia leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "How long has she had this cold?"

"About two weeks. It- Well, the cough had gotten worse, and I tried to get her to come here, but she said it was just her age, that she expected to stay down longer with it than she used to."

"Her records show she was healthy before this. No reason for her to have a cold that long," Healer Jordan said absentmindedly. "Did she have anything new?"

"Anything new? No- I-I'm sorry, I just don't see how that could help." Draco was becoming visibly flustered now.

Alicia held up a hand, saying, "Just stay with me for a moment, please. Answer the questions. It's all helping, I promise."

"Well, no. She didn't have anything new that I noticed."

"And you said she got the cold two weeks ago? And it got progressively worse?"

"Yes, it was just a normal cold. She started coughing and running a fever, but nothing extraordinary."

"When was the last time you saw her, Mr. Malfoy?"

"This morning around seven, just before I left for work. She wasn't any worse then. I mean, she hasn't been eating much, but I just put that down to being sick."

The Healer nodded, and then sat back. "Alright, Mr. Malfoy. Your mother has been cursed. It has to be some sort of object that only she has touched, since she's the only one affected. Mr. Malfoy…" Malfoy tensed, knowing from Alicia's change of tone that even worse news was coming. "This is old, almost ancient magic. I'm not sure, but I think I read that the last time this happened was in thirteen-forty-something. You should know…. Well, they never reversed it."

Hermione could tell that giving this kind of news was difficult for Alicia; obviously, even more difficult for Draco to hear. Hermione felt even her own chest constrict with emotion.

Hermione spoke up, "How does it work? How can we tell what it is so we can stay away from it?"

The healer sighed, "Look, the records aren't totally clear. It starts with something innocuous, like a cold. It gets progressively worse, then finally they end up in this sort of comatose state. Thankfully, healing magic has progressed far enough that we can keep her alive, but we _have to find_ whatever it is that cursed her. Are you living in the house now?"

"I am."

"You need to find somewhere else to stay. Until we know what it is, no one should be there without proper training. I'm sending aurors in, but they won't go until the day after tomorrow. That will give you time to go and collect clothes and such, but please, please, don't touch your mother's things. Any of them."

Draco nodded, taking a moment to absorb everything. "Thank you," he finally said.

"Your mother's in good hands, Mr. Malfoy."

"I know. Can I see her before I leave?"

"Absolutely. But, again, you can stay in the house tonight, but I would advise against it. Minimize any chance of danger, you know."

Draco nodded, and Healer Jordan stood, "Follow me, then."

He followed her out, and Hermione transfigured the chair back to its original state. She waited for him, and when he returned just a few minutes later, his eyes were red-rimmed.

"Hermione…" he started.

"You don't have to say anything, Draco. It's alright." He stood awkwardly just inside the door, and she sat just as awkwardly in the same chair she'd been in for what seemed like ages.

"You didn't have to stay."

"I consider your mother a friend, Draco. And you needed someone here."

He gave her a weak smile, all of his normal bravado gone. "I don't deserve that from you."

She returned with a weak smile of her own, before putting her back on her shoulder and walking over to him. She laid a hand gently on his shoulder, and that's when he broke. Slowly, tears rolled down his cheeks, and he wiped them off his chin with his sleeve. He turned away from her, and she let him, not knowing what else to do. A minute or two passed, and he had collected himself enough to say, "I don't know where to go."

"Can you stay with Astoria? A friend, maybe?"

"She's moved Thomas in, and it's almost ten. I don't know who I could call on this late." Hermione assumed Thomas was Astoria's new lover, but didn't ask. She thought a moment, and then steeled herself.

"Stay with me, then. I have two extra bedrooms, with the children at school. It's not much, but you'll have a place to sleep tonight."

"I can't- No. It's fine. She said I could stay in the house tonight. Don't know why I'm worrying myself over it." He had made himself sound sure, but Hermione knew he didn't want to stay there with the Healer's warnings fresh on his mind.

"Don't be silly, Malfoy. It's fine. Come on. We'll stop by your house so you can get some clothes to sleep in."

"I'll find somewhere else to stay tomorrow. I promise."

Hermione side-along apparated them to the top of her building, where she could be sure none of her muggle neighbors would see them. She showed him around, then to Hugo's room, where he would be sleeping. Hermione was exhausted by now, and she just wanted to lay down, have a good cry, and sleep.

As she turned to go to her room, Draco softly said, "Hermione, wait."

She turned back around to him, automatically reassuring, "It will be fine. Everything's going to be fine. Just-"

"No," he stopped her and sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he exhaled. "I just-I just wanted to thank you. For everything. You're a better person than I ever gave you credit for."

"You don't have to thank me. Good night, Malfoy."

"Good night, Granger. Sleep well."

She got to her room, changed, and set up silencing wards around her room before she laid down. It was a good thing she had too, because she woke screaming, other people's screams still echoing in her ears.

 **Author's Note: Well, this one was difficult to write. Longest chapter we've had. Getting a little heavy here, guys, but I hope you all still liked it. I know so many of you have followed, or favorited, and I am so grateful for that, but can I ask a favor? Please review. I know it seems silly to ask, but I love to hear in your own words what I'm doing right, wrong, or if anything's unclear. I'm here to serve!**

 **Beaflower114- I hope this chapter met your expectations! Thank you for reviewing!**


	8. Back to Business

Back to Business

Hermione had to speak to her supervisor about what had happened. Yendig Trimbley was a short, fat, sweaty, and mostly unpleasant man whom Hermione had tried, really tried, to like. She had finally decided, after he had blown cigar smoke directly into her face, that there would be none of that. Yendig, really? At least the unfortunate name gave him an excuse for his unpleasantness.

She knocked on his office door, and heard, "Come in!" through a hacking cough. As she opened the door, a cloud of cigar smoke rolled out, dispersing slowly toward the ceiling. Her lip curled a moment, something she was sure was akin to a wolf's snarl, but she controlled herself and stepped inside.

"Oh, Mrs. Weasley. Are you still going by Weasley?" His eyes slowly trailed from her chest to her legs, never to her face. Hermione had to fight with herself to keep the snarl safely hidden away.

"I am. I came to report that I am currently unable to complete the Malfoy mission, sir."

"Yes, yes. Potter sent over a memo on that this morning. He'd like to speak to you." Trimbley took a long drag off of his cigar, and the ashes fell on his vest. He didn't even bother to wipe them away, the pig. "Said that ol' bint's in St. Mungo's, deathly ill. Suppose that Malfoy family's finally getting what's coming to them, hmm?"

Hermione smelled the sickly sweet cigar as her nostrils flared. "They were tried, and served their sentences, sir. Surely you understand that they've paid the price." She gave him a smile that stretched her cheeks, as sickly sweet as the smoke.

He leaned forward, and pointed the hand with that disgusting cigar at her, "No, Mrs. Weasley. I worked that case when I was young here, and I know, just know, that there are still some skeletons hidden in that closet. Now, Mummy dearest may have been worried about her boy, and he may not have ratted out all of you, but I did the paperwork on all that." He paused a moment, sipping out of a glass filled with an amber liquid. "There's still things there, secrets, and those two have never let on. Waiting for the right time, I think." He gave a final nod, and sat back, his chair creaking in protest.

"Did Harry's memo say anything about why she was ill, sir?"

"No, but the kind of magic she's been fiddling with all these years has come back to her, I suppose."

"I see. Well, sir, may I offer a bit of advice to you?" He waved his hand in permission, and Hermione narrowed her eyes and spoke softly and slowly, ensuring that he would catch every word. "Narcissa Malfoy, whom I consider a good friend of mine, has been cursed. Ancient, dark, magic. Magic that hasn't been used in centuries. And you know what else? I saw Leggett this morning, and she let me know that the Nott and Goyle libraries are all finished, but the only person who got a full report was you. Rumors are flying that they both had some horrible books, with the kind of curses and spells that could kill a person."

Trimbley began to turn red, stammering, but never even forming a full word.

"Now, sir, I know that you'd _never_ do such a thing, but you must admit that it looks bad."

"How-how dare you!" Trimbley finally got out. "Threatening me? I could make sure you never work for this ministry again, girl!"

"Oh, no. I don't think you could do that. Remember who I am, sir. I could find a job in any part of this Ministry, and you know it. In fact, I've been offered _your_ job, on more than one occasion. Having me in your department bolsters you. Gives you a bit to brag about at parties. I'm not threatening you, I'm offering advice. With what's happened to Narcissa, you are certainly going to want to keep your opinions on the Malfoy's to yourself." Hermione curtly nodded, then exited without a dismissal. She heard glass breaking, presumably against a wall, and smiled to herself.

It had taken her a long time to come to terms with the fact that she was the most famous witch alive in their world. Once she accepted it, though, she knew when to exploit it. Honestly, she hadn't had to do that just then, but seeing Trimbley gasping like a fish out of water was worth it. She knew Trimbley wouldn't actually hurt the Malfoy's ; he was too comfortable with the way his life was to risk it, and the man's one redeeming quality was that he truly believed that everybody would "get what was coming to them one day." Really, it was kind of annoying how often he repeated the phrase.

Hermione realized that she had gone in to report, and get a temporary assignment until she could go back to her case, but she had gone off on her little tangent, and well. He would probably have one of lackeys send a bullshite form or something to her desk, but in the meantime, she decided she should probably speak to Harry, and made her way to the Auror department.

She walked down the hallway, past practice rooms and offices, to the door at the end that read **Head Of Auror Department** with _Harry Potter_ listed simply below it. She knocked, hoping her friend wasn't busy, and was relieved to hear him invite her in.

"Hermione!" her oldest friend gave a genuine smile, and came around the desk to hug her.

"Hello, Harry." He had changed over the years as well, grey coming in at his temples and wrinkles around his eyes. Now, though, he wasn't an angst-filled teenager saving the wizarding world, so many of the wrinkles were born from smiles.

"Well, sit," he told her, as he made his way back to his chair. "We haven't had a proper conversation in months."

She felt a nagging bit of guilt tear at her at her friend's words. "I know, Harry, it's just- all this with Ron, and now Hugo's acting out, and this business with the Malfoy's-"

He gave her a look, one she knew all too well. "Come on, 'Mione. It's not like it's been a nasty divorce. You can't use that as an excuse."

"I know. I'm just trying to figure out how things will work now. It's not like I can still come for Christmas at the Burrow."

"Of course you can, you know they all still love you. What's this about Hugo?"

She sighed. "You know how he is, Harry. He blames himself for all of it, I don't know why. He's been getting in trouble at Hogwarts, and I'm just worried. I was going to handle it myself, but Draco said-"

"Wait, Draco? Malfoy?"

"Oh, um… Well, yes. You know I was working their library case."

"Yeah, but I didn't realize you and he talked. Definitely not that you're on a first-name basis."

Hermione felt a little blush blooming on her cheeks. "He's uh- he's helped me, a lot, with their library. Goes so much quicker when you have the help of someone who knows the place."

"I imagine so."

"Harry, you aren't going to tell me to watch out for myself, are you? We're not in school anymore."

"No, no." Harry put his hands up to stop her. "He's turned himself into a good man. Albus and Scorpius are even friends, kind of. I just didn't realize he had been helping is all."

"Ah. Oh, yeah, I have something to tell you about Trimbley." With that, she told him about her encounter this morning, ending with, "but I don't think he could have anything to do with it. Don't think he's even smart enough to pull off something like that."

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he thought a moment. "I wouldn't discount him. He obviously has some strong feelings about the family. But you're right; he's not exactly a prime suspect. By the way, my men are combing over the place now, trying to find whatever it was that cursed her. Draco should be able to move back in tomorrow, so long as they find it."

"Will I be able to go back to working their case tomorrow, then?"

"I'd feel better if you-" Harry was cut off by a knock on the door.

"Harry, we just got back from the Malfoy's," she heard, slightly muffled, through the door.

Hermione knew that voice, and Harry flashed an apologetic smile as he went to answer it.

"Now's not really a good time, mate," she heard Harry say with the door barely cracked.

"No, trust me, Harry, you need to hear this," she heard the other man say, and then Ron pushed open the door and began to step inside. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her, and his ears started to turn red.

Harry shrugged, "Told you it wasn't a good time."

"No, it's okay, Harry. I'd like to hear about it, if I can," she said, before adding as an afterthought, "Hello, Ronald."

"'Mione, hey."

Hermione knew it shouldn't be this awkward. They had split on good terms, both agreeing that it was for the best. Still, though, they just didn't know what to really do around each other anymore. They had thought, at first, to be friends again, but that's just so hard to do with such a history between the two of them. Hermione didn't know what to do, and so she sat with her back a little too straight, and Ron kept tapping a finger against the folder in his hand.

The awkward silence stretched out for a few moments, before Harry broke it. "Well, sit down then, Ron. I don't see any harm in Hermione hearing what you found; she's already involved anyway."

"Er, right," Ron sat in the chair next to hers. "Well, really, Harry…. There wasn't anything there. Nothing we didn't already know about, anyway."

"Really? Nothing?" Harry asked. "There had to have been _something_ there."

Ron shook his head, "I don't understand it, either, mate. Every cursed object there was already on file, and Malfoy kept his word. Every one was in locked glass cases, with magical protection. They've all been locked up for decades."

"That can't be right," Hermione finally spoke up. "Some really powerful magic got Narcissa. Did you try revealing charms on the rooms?"

"Of course we did, 'Mione, but there's nothing there. Best guess right now is that someone was able to sneak onto the property and actually curse her themselves. Or, if it was an object, they brought it in, used it, and took it back out."

Hermione shook her head, "That just can't be right."

Ron shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. I had the team do every charm and spell in our arsenal to try and find something, but the only things there are what was already there. And all those tested as having been dormant since at least the first war."

"Alright," Harry looked at Ron. "We'll have Rick and Yvette's teams go out with you tomorrow, too. We have to find something. Can't let whatever it is get anyone else." Harry looked at the clock. "How about I call us up lunch, and I can ask you what I need to over that, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded as Ron asked, "What do you need to ask her, Harry?"

"Just need to make sure we've got everything covered, Ron. Join us, if you like." Ron nodded, and Harry wrote their orders on a piece of paper, folded it into an airplane, and sent it down to the ministry cafeteria.

"So, you just found her like that? And Draco said she was fine that morning?" Ron asked, his mouth full, not ten minutes later.

"Yeah, he said she was up talking and- you know, don't you have his statement, already?" Hermione replied.

"Ugh, Hermione," Harry sounded a little frustrated. "Of course we have his statement, but you know we have to double, triple, and sometimes quadruple check our facts."

"Right, right, right," she waved a hand at him, the gesture slightly reminiscent of Molly Weasley. "Well, yes, he said that she was talking and such, but she still had the cold, which now I suppose was probably the curse slowly working. Anyway, she didn't exactly feel great. Toby came to bring me my lunch-"

"Wait, who's Toby again?"

"The house-elf, Ronald."

"Right. Carry on."

"I asked how Narcissa was feeling, and Toby started crying. Said Narcissa wouldn't wake up, so I made her lead me to her, and then I had Toby take her to St. Mungo's. I had to go back outside their wards before I could apparate to follow."

Harry nodded, rubbing his forehead. "I was hoping this would be an easy case."

"Are they ever really that easy for us, mate?"

Harry sighed heavily,"Guess not. Back to square one."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help more,"Hermione started.

Harry broke her off, "No, you did just like you were supposed to, 'Mione. Hey," he sounded like he suddenly remembered something, and Hermione dreaded what he would say. "Didn't you say that Hugo was having trouble?" She had been right to dread it.

Ron turned to her. "Hugo's having trouble? I haven't heard anything."

She glared at Harry, and then turned and said to Ron, "Yeah, Rose wrote me and he's just acting out over the divorce, is all."

"Acting out? How?"

"Well, you know he's not happy about it, Ronald. He thinks it has something to do with him, for whatever reason, and I didn't want to get you involved-"

"How is he acting out, Hermione?"

She sighed, rolling her neck, and taking note of how Harry had sunk down in his chair. "Trying to pick fights, detentions, got a first year to eat a puking pasty…"

"A puking pasty? Really? How did he even get it in the school?"

"I don't know, Ron! I just- Well, we need to all sit down when they come home for Easter, and we need to discuss how things will be now. Dra- uh, a friend recommended that. Said Hugo's just confused about how things are going to be different now, so we all need to sit down and figure it out. Together, as a family."

Ron sat back in his seat again, the red receding from his ears. "I suppose you're right. But it's barely March, Hermione. Can't expect him to just behave himself without us saying anything for another month. Just- why didn't you tell me?"

"You know how you are, Ron. You would just get mad, probably write him to tell him off, then he'd get mad and get in more trouble. Rose wrote me because she thought I would handle it better. Don't worry anyway, I've already written him. Told him to buckle down on his schoolwork, and that we would talk about it when they were home. Just hadn't told you yet."

Ron nodded. Hermione was surprised that he had let it go that easy. "Good. Please though, Hermione, just… tell me next time. Don't like being kept in the dark about my own kids."

Hermione placed a hand on his arm and said she was sorry. "Well," Ron spoke again a few seconds later, looking up at Harry, "I'll get the reports on file then, and tell the others they're going tomorrow, too. Have a good day, Harry, Hermione." He gathered up the papers he had spread over Harry's desk and left.

Harry let out a breath that he seemed to have been holding. "Sorry, Hermione. Didn't mean to, erm…"

"It's fine," she gave him a good-natured smile. "He needed to know anyway. I need to go too, probably have a mountain of paperwork after I told off Trimbley this morning." Harry gave her a hug, and they said their goodbyes.

She had been right. Apparently, Trimbley had sent every menial form he could find an excuse for to her. She sighed, and buried herself in notarizations and date-checking for the rest of the day.

When she finally got home that night, she was exhausted. She laid down on the couch, and turned on the television to some mindless reality show, just for some noise. After a while, she realized that she was too keyed up to just lie there, and so she began to clean up.

In the kitchen, haphazardly thrown under small dining table, she found the bag she had been using for the Malfoy case. She had completely forgotten about it being there, and as she picked it up it was heavier than she remembered. She opened it and pulled out Narcissa's things. She had forgotten she had them.

She looked at the picture a moment too long, noticing how Draco, at about 5, resembled his mother more in the face than his father. _Must have been losing the baby fat that made him look like Lucius,_ she thought. Narcissa's wedding ring was, well, ostentatious but beautiful. Probably a family piece, passed down through generations. Hermione found herself wondering why Draco hadn't given it to Astoria. _Or maybe he did, and that was part of their divorce._ Hermione put down the ring, shaking thoughts about it from her head, and picked up the book.

Bound in dark green leather, it looked old and worn, the leather thin in some places, and the binding weak. No title, but that wasn't exactly strange for books like these. Hermione turned it over in her hands a couple of times. She had always loved the feel of books like these. She pushed everything else further away from her on the table, and gently sat the book down. Then, she opened it and began to read.

 **Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me a bit longer to update this time, but I hope you enjoyed it. You've probably figured out by now what the cursed object is, but if not, it will definitely be clear soon. I'd like to let you all know that I'll be having a minor surgery later this week, so I don't know if I'll be able to update or not. Never had surgery before, so I don't really know what to expect from myself. So, if I'm not able to update, I apologize in advance.**

 **mpat12- Thank you! I wanted to do a story that was as canon as possible, and I may get that wrong here and there, but I'm glad you think it's believable. It was so hard for me to get back to writing!**

 **Guest- Thank you for reading! I hope you continue to enjoy it!**

 **CrazyPedantic- I felt that having common ground was important for this. I've read so many fics where Hermione just suddenly sort of decides that hey, maybe Draco is a good guy. As much as I love those, I really wanted to do something that was more believable.**


	9. A New Friend

A New Friend

There were no words, to begin, just lines of random gibberish. Then, the letters began to scroll, forming from the first to the last into words.

 _Oh, a new reader. Hello. And, goodness, tis a reader I know! Look at you. Hermione Jean Granger. Of course, I don't know everything about you, do I? No, no, no. I only know what Narcissa knew of you._

"What?" Hermione whispered to herself. "What kind of book knows about it's reader?"

 _Silly question for such a bright witch. An enchanted book, of course. You like learning, don't you? Oh, the stories I could tell you. The stories I could tell would change everything._

 _Back to you, though. Brightest witch of her age? War heroine? By the gods, woman, you are impressive._

 _Did you just scoff?_

Hermione found herself giving a book a bit of a guilty look, before directing the look inward at the ridiculousness of the act.

 _Mrs. Weasley- no, Granger- Ms. Granger, don't scoff. It's true, you know. You wouldn't be the most famous witch of our world if it weren't. Voldemort would have won, had you not been there. Even the devil's snare first year would've killed him, if you hadn't told him what to do._

 _You put too little stock in yourself. Why do you do that? Why do you not have the confidence Harry does? Or the arrogance of Ron? Even Neville proudly admits his part in the war. Why do you, of all people, deny your role? Why do you always chuckle, wave a hand, and say that you didn't really do that much?_

 _You did._

"No," she whispered again. "Harry was the important one. He was the one who finished it."

 _That's true, yes. He finished it. However, he never would have gotten there had it not been for you. Please, listen to me._

Hermione sighed, and began to close the book, but found herself unable to as the letters moved. They formed the word WAIT across the whole page, then spread out again as she looked back at it. Her eyes went to the top of the page, where the words had changed.

 _You need to understand one thing before you go. You mustn't tell anyone about me. I can't tell you what will happen. Just know that telling anyone about me will not end well. I can change your life, if you let me. Just don't tell anyone anything about me._

 _Good night, Hermione._

She shut the book, not knowing how to feel. The day had exhausted her, so she had barely changed before falling into bed, on top of the covers, and falling asleep.

 **Author's Note: So sorry it took me so long, everyone, and that it's so short. The surgery took too much out of me, and I recently found out I'll be moving soon. It's just been a lot lately. I apologize ahead of time, because I'm sure updates will be infrequent and erratic because of everything I have going on. I thank you all for sticking it out with me, and will thank you again for anymore favorites, follows, or reviews I receive.**


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